Work Text:
“What the hell are all those?”
It doesn’t matter that he has guards and schedules and doors with formidable locks now that he’s Viscount. Hawke breezes by them all with ease like he’s still hauled up at the Hanged Man. Sometimes he wishes he was, but that ache is something that eases when he sees familiar faces. Hers especially. He doesn’t know if he should thank the staff for letting her pass so freely- he’d like to, he just doesn’t know if he should.
“Ah, they’re letters from my readers,” he answers, frowning down at the large, messy pile upon his desk. He’s instructed Bran to burn them, but currently his seneschal is paying him back for giving the Inquisitor ownership of most of Kirkwall on accident. Who knew that gigantic key was worth something? Humans.
“Really?” Hawke slides onto his desk with an eager, excited look on her face and plucks the first parchment she finds. “Master Tethras, I recently finished your latest chapter of Swords and Shields and loved it immensely. It is my favorite of all your stories. I knew something big was going to happen but I did not expect that! Please put me out of my woeful misery with a new chapter soon.”
“It’s always that book,” he grumbles.
“Here’s another one for it.” Her eyes scan the page, her smile and eyes widening with every word. “Master Tethras, I feel we have a connection even though we’ve never met. It is the only way to explain what your writing does to me. After reading your chapters I often find myself…deeply inspired. Sometimes even in the middle of reading I become too inspired. I think of your wondrous hands writing these words. Do you think of anyone special too? I-”
Hawke stops her narration, snickering. Her laughter overtakes her, has her holding her stomach with tears at the edges of bright eyes. He loves when she laughs like this, unburdened and open, free in a way that makes him forget about impending dooms, past, present, or forthcoming. Varric smiles to himself as he watches her, a smile small enough that he could wipe clean quickly if she decided to look his way.
“Oh Maker, you get letters like this all the time?” she asks when she finally has the breath for it.
“Really Hawke? I feel I should be offended you find the concept of my appeal so comedic.”
“Oh Varric, don’t worry.” She reaches out and tickles the bottom of his chin. “I know you’re quite the catch. I just can’t believe someone would sign their name on such a thing. Well, except for Isabela, although she’d be way more straightforward. None of this “inspired” stuff.”
He resists reaching up to touch his face as she dives back into the pile, tries to push his thoughts away from replaying the feel of her skin on his. Nothing good ever comes of it. Definitely not what he truly wants from it, which is more and more and more, and that is definitely not good.
“These latest chapters have been pretty intense and scandalous compared to-yes of course I still read them- compared to previous ones. It’s like you’ve found a new muse.” She leans in closer, mock conspiracy in gaze. “So, Varric, is there someone special lately that’s made you so…inspired?”
He thinks about it and that’s a mistake. The pause is long enough for them to truly look at one another, to gauge the short distance between them, to feel that thing that lives at the margins but never inside the text. Does she notice him glancing at her lips? Does he imagine her leaning just a little closer?
Whatever he imagines, there are things he knows. There are some stories that end nowhere. With a chuckle he waves the question away, puts some distance between them with the pretense of shifting his heavy jacket. “Not in that way, but it’s hilarious imagining the Seeker eating this shit up. I plan on ending the next one in a big cliffhanger just to mess with her.”
He definitely imagines the disappointment that flashes through blue eyes, because believing it has a shred of truth to it would be a torture. Hawke laughs, the beginning of it a little hollow before she finishes strong. “Cassandra Pentaghast. I really must meet her one of these days. Not today though! Unless she got an invite to Fenris’ without my knowledge. You coming?”
“Yeah I’ll be there.”
“Good!” Hawke jumps off the desk and is halfway across the room before he can blink. “See you later!”
He falls back into his chair when she’s gone, the door shutting softly a loud echo in his mind. There is work he should be doing, or at least actively avoiding, but he can’t find the strength to do anything but sit there for awhile and wonder, wish, that he had the courage for something more than fiction.